


hard feelings/loveless

by yuyangs



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Introspection, M/M, POV Second Person, angst with an ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 16:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30058632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuyangs/pseuds/yuyangs
Summary: Your name is Sakusa Kiyoomi, you are twenty-eight years old and you are in love with a man who doesn’t love you back.sakuatsu angst week 2021:➥ day 5, tier 3: "lie to me."
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	hard feelings/loveless

**Author's Note:**

> ha.

Your name is Sakusa Kiyoomi, you were sixteen years old when you had a crush on someone for the first time in your life and you hated yourself for it. It was probably because that someone was a person you never expected to harbour any feelings for.

The boy’s name was Miya Atsumu. He was just ‘Miya’ then and he continued to be just ‘Miya’ for years. His hair was an ugly shade of yellow and it made you scrunch up your nose in disgust. You convinced yourself that you actually hated him. Surely the pounding of your heart and the heat that rushed to your face every time he sent that perfect toss up your way, every time he smiled and yelled ‘Nice kill!’ after you slammed it to the ocean blue floors of the Ajinomoto Training Center, every time you merely locked eyes from across the court counted as hatred. It was the budding of such. Hatred.

So you yelled at him whenever he got close.

And maybe you drowned in the process.

“Stay away from me, Miya!” you had said one time out of many when he tried to slap you on the back after a perfect set.

You remember how he frowned at you, the corners of his lips turning downward as his hazel eyes suddenly felt like a crackle of fire that could burn you with a rake over your skin. You ignored that pang in your chest at the sight. Or tried to. It made you question whether or not warmth could be bad, if too much sunlight would only cause a drought. You matched it with your own gaze, unyieldingly, unflinchingly, unnecessarily.

You hated him.

(You’re lying to yourself right now.)

You hate him.

(No, you don’t)

You wish you hate him.

(Finally, a truth.)

It’s cold when you wake up. The patter of the rain outside tells you that it must be late in the morning, close to the afternoon, even. You don’t do this often—sleeping in, or at least you didn’t used to do this often. You were always the one who would wake the other. But if the cold dent in the bed beside you is any indication, the man you slept with last night, the man you sleep beside every night, has long since awoken and left you there when he did.

Your name is Sakusa Kiyoomi, you are twenty-eight years old and you are in love with a man who doesn’t love you back.

He did love you back. At one point, you’re sure of that. You’ve been together for seven years, seven _long_ years and sometimes you try to guess when it was that Atsumu stopped loving you the way you loved him. It’s almost like a little game, cruel in its intentions and just as cold as the thoughtlessness it leaves in its wake.

Was it the month before?

Was it the year before?

Has it been several years?

Or did Atsumu fall out of love the second he told you he loved you?

No, that’s unfair.

You know that he did love you. At some point. Back then.

You know this because when you joined the Black Jackals, Miya was different from what you knew. He was still an asshole of course, but he was also considerate and observant, all words that you never thought you would associate with him. His hair was still blond, but paler, like rays of sunlight after a storm. It confused you.

At first, it was the spare wet wipes, and then it was the sanitizer. It was him yelling that your spike was sloppy, which was an insult but you also knew the push of someone who cared underneath such an exterior.

He called you ‘Omi-kun’ and it was irritating. He tried to get you to call him ‘Atsumu’ and you refused, a little out of pride and mostly just to piss him off. Because you were petty. You _are_ petty, still.

But you aren’t petty enough to finally call it quits. Despite what everyone says about you, and how you look at things objectively, you still cannot fathom leaving a dying relationship.

Not yet.

Maybe, you just haven’t put enough effort into it.

Effort has never betrayed you.

Because you remember that smile Atsumu gave you when you first called him that, the way his eyes lit up at the sound of his name. You wondered then if you looked the same when he called you by your name, unattached to honorifics, unmarred from the intimate, distant act of a casual nickname.

At the beginning, he almost begged for you to never leave, and now he stays with you out of obligation.

He tolerates you because that is what he trained himself to do when he first decided to pursue you. It’s funny now that you think about it; how Atsumu trained himself to tolerate all your indiscretions, to carry all your little burdens. But now you might be one of those burdens. He has learned to tolerate you. He put in the effort to understand you and to love you, and you commend him for that. Maybe it’s you who didn’t do enough. If you did, maybe you might have reached some peace of mind. If you did, maybe you wouldn’t cling to the memories of a love that has long since wilted.

You force yourself out of bed and you make your way to the bathroom. The reflection of the mirror is not who you are. The man who stares back at you has sadness in his eyes and a weight that causes them to sag a little. You notice it immediately. Atsumu must be able to, too. He has always been observant to your wants and needs.

The cold water you splash on your face isn’t to help you wake up. You’ve been awake for a long time, at least in half. It’s almost like you’re lucid dreaming, fully aware of what is around you and yet your body is the one who refuses to get up from sleep. And when you cross the threshold of the bedroom into the living room, you see him lying on the couch, asleep.

He looks peaceful alone.

You used to think that it would hurt less if he would just leave, but now you think that you don’t want him to tell the truth anymore. You want to indulge for a few seconds longer. This is unhealthy, an addiction that will just break you in the long run, but you can’t help it. Atsumu has wheedled his way into your life so seamlessly that you forget what it was like before him.

How did you live before Atsumu?

But do you even _want_ to know? Do you even care for the answer?

You don’t.

So you beg.

_Lie to me._

_Keep lying to me._

You pad over to his sleeping figure and gently shake him awake. He opens his eyes, recognition flashes in them.

“Hey,” he says casually, as if he didn’t leave you in bed in the early hours of morning. “What time is it?”

“Just a little after eleven,” you answer. You train your face so a crease doesn’t form between your eyebrows. You don’t want to frown. “I’ll make you some tea.”

“Thanks.”

In the kitchen, the plates are polished and the water in the kettle boils. This is all normal and normalcy is inherently subjective. You think you are good at hiding whatever that pit in your stomach is starting to take form as.

_Lie to me._

Still, Atsumu notices.

_Please._

It’s funny how despite everything, Atsumu seems to understand you best. Because without having to say anything, with just a glance, he accepts your silent request. He lies to you over and over and over again. You are being overwatered, the soil too loose and you slip. Your leaves are turning yellow from too many lies and yet you force yourself to stay upright for the chance of sunlight hitting you at just the right angle.

You don't think you would mind a drought.

“I love you,” he says, as if convincing himself more than everyone else. He probably is. Again, you aren’t even his priority in that equation.

You don't mind a drought but in your nature, you prefer the rain.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

_But I don’t want to._

_Not anymore._

(A truth.)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to kriti and su for beta reading this!!! 
> 
> special thanks to [su](https://twitter.com/cherrybomb_su) for making the [fic graphic](https://twitter.com/atsumu_twt/status/1371443902633320451)!
> 
> i planned this to be a two part series but idk if i'll write the second part anytime soon so....
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/atsumu_twt) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/atsumu_twt)


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